‘So why are you here, Miss Evelyne? Ah, I know, you are getting married, is that it?’
Evelyne laughed. ‘Far from it.’ She explained at length why she had come back to Cardiff, while Freda lay with her eyes closed, listening. She didn’t mention Jesse and Rawnie by name, just the basic facts of Willie’s murder.
‘I’m a witness you see, Freda, that’s why I’m here, I know he didn’t kill that boy. Freedom is innocent, and I want to help him.’
Rolling over on the bed, Freda propped her frizzy head on her hands and scrutinized Evelyne. ‘But it is not just one killing, is it darling? Perhaps he did not kill this Willie boy in your village, but what of the three murdered here in Cardiff? Goodness, I’ve read terrible things, such scandal, everyone has been frighted, it’s like Jack the Ripper.’
Freedom Stubbs was no Jack the Ripper, Evelyne told her.
Recovering some of her energy, Freda sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. They didn’t reach the floor.
‘We shall go to see him, that is what we must do. But first, and I hope you don’t mind me saying this, your dress is very drab, you must look smart, not like a schoolteacher, really smart … do you have the money for some clothes?’
Evelyne answered evasively, not that sort of money, and studied her reflection in the mirror. Freda looked her up and down, she was so thin and had grown even taller. For a small price, she suggested, she could alter Evelyne’s clothes, perhaps they could buy some second-hand things.
‘You will feel more confident, and I can do it very cheaply, what do you say?’
Smiling sweetly as Evelyne agreed, Freda took out a tape measure, saying that she never went anywhere without it. She departed with two pounds ten shillings of Evelyne’s money, assuring her she could do wonders with it.
When she had left, Evelyne counted her remaining money. She had been ‘paid’ with two five-pound notes last time she had been in Cardiff, and now she was putting them to good use. As Freda had taken most of her few clothes to alter she couldn’t go out, so she lingered in yet another soapy bath, her thoughts on David. She wondered if he knew what was so obviously going on between his wife and his best friend Freddy.
The following morning Evelyne was astonished at how fast Freda had worked. Her hemlines were up, and the new buttons on her old coat made it look quite nice.
‘I will have a dress ready soon, your skirt and blouse will do for now, and perhaps if you can give me a few more shillings you can have a nice new hat.’
The desk sergeant remembered Evelyne, but refused her permission to see Freedom. Miss Freda launched into a furious speech about citizens’ rights, and said that if he didn’t allow Miss Jones to visit the prisoner, she would write to all the newspapers. After that they were kept waiting for half an hour, but permission was granted. They were sent to another building, where again they were kept waiting, until a tall prison warder with a set of big keys on a waistchain approached them. ‘Miss Evelyne Jones, please?’
He led her to a bare room where Freedom was sitting at a wooden table, handcuffed, an officer standing beside the door. Another officer stood outside, where he could see into the room through a small window set in the door for that purpose. Freedom had no idea why he had been brought out of his cell and sat, head bowed, staring at his hands. His hair was unruly, uncombed, and his face already dark with stubble.
As the officer left he locked the door behind him, after informing Evelyne coldly that she had ten minutes. Freedom was stunned and made to rise, but was immediately pushed back into his chair by the officer. Evelyne sat in an identical chair opposite Freedom. Now that she was here she didn’t know what to say to him and could see that he was dumbstruck by her appearance. She could smell him, his heavy body odour, for the man had not been allowed to bathe since his arrest.
His shoulder-length hair was greasy and hung limp, and when he lifted his hands to move it back from his face she could see his handcuffs.
The presence of the police officer loomed over them both, and for a good two minutes neither said a word. Evelyne placed her hands, with the neat, square, shining nails, on to the table. ‘I have come to say you were with me the night Willie was in the picture house. They say in the papers that you’ll be standing trial for all the killings and that you’ll hang.’
Freedom looked into her eyes, and then turned to look at the prison officer. His voice was so quiet, she had to lean forward to hear. ‘So be it, and I thank thee for coming, God bless you.’
Evelyne leant even further across to him, trying to make him look into her face, but his head remained bowed. ‘You can’t just accept it, you can’t, because I know you didn’t …’
Freedom looked up, his face was hard, and now his voice was firm, though still not loud. ‘You know nothing, go back to your village, manushi, go back, this is not your business. Forget what you know — she must never be mentioned, understand me?’
She knew he meant Rawnie, and she leant back against the wooden chair. He was prepared to say nothing, prepared to hang … she couldn’t believe it.
‘Will you do nothing? Freedom…’ His name sounded hollow and foolish, and he turned to the officer and jerked his head for the door to be opened. The officer banged on the door with his wooden baton and it was unlocked from outside. With a hesitant look at the officer, Freedom waited to be allowed to stand.
‘Do you have proof that you were not in Cardiff for the other killings? Freedom? Where were you? Freedom?’
Standing, Freedom dwarfed the prison officer who only came up to his shoulders. He didn’t look back but walked straight to the door, and it was not until he bent his head to avoid the doorframe that he turned to look back at her.
His dark eyes were expressionless, black, his powerful arms bound by the handcuffs. He was like a magnificent wild beast trapped by man, unbowed and undaunted. He gave Evelyne a quick, unfathomable smile, then he was gone.
Miss Freda linked arms with Evelyne as they walked away from the prison. The girl was silent, her body stiff, her hands cold to Freda’s touch. One of the prison officers had walked through the waiting room and mentioned to another that the gyppo killer had not said a word during his time in the jail.
‘That his woman in there with him, is it? She’ll do no good, he’s for the rope and he knows it.’
Miss Freda still did not know the truth behind Evelyne’s visit, surely it could not just be because she believed the lad innocent, there must be more than that.
In the middle of the street Evelyne suddenly stopped, her face angry, eyes blazing.
‘They’ll not hang him, Freda, I won’t let them, he’s like a child in there, a foolish, stubborn child.’
Together they returned to Freda’s small lodgings. The room was cluttered with hatboxes, and in pride of position in the centre of the room was Freda’s sewing machine. From the garret window Evelyne could see a long line of men waiting for the dole, and there were children begging in the street.
‘I won’t let them hang him, he’s innocent, I’m going back, and I’ll keep going back until they take me seriously and do something about it.’
Freda patted her arm soothingly and at the same time tried to measure her for a sleeve.
‘I don’t want a new dress, Freda, I’m sorry, I’m not going to walk away from him, I’m going to make him see sense, I have to.’
Frightened that Evelyne would ask for her money back, Freda wanted to weep. She was so short of cash that she’d already spent the two pounds ten on back rent. ‘You seem so sure he is innocent — I know, don’t get angry … I know you say you were with him, he could not have killed that boy in your village, but Evie, what of the others?’
Evelyne still stared down at the growing line of poverty-stricken, unemployed men. ‘He’s killed no one, I know it, there are things I can’t speak of… but I will, I’ll make him let me.’
Back at the prison, at first the warder was most unhelpful. Evelyne refused to budge, she had to see Freedom Stubbs, and it was her right. The prisoner was entitled to a lawyer. She opened her purse and took out a shilling. ‘And you’ll have another after I’ve seen him.’
She was taken to the visiting room and told to wait. At long last, after two hours, she heard the footsteps of the warder returning.
‘You got two minutes and then he has to go back, I’ll lose me job, ma’am, I’m trusting you to behave
